


i can’t lie to you about your chances

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alien-inspired au, Gore, M/M, Mild Horror, Multi, Oviposition, Tentacles, Vomiting, borderlands reverse bang 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 00:09:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14068596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: ...but you have my sympathies.Jack sends Timothy to open an old vault, but what he finds inside is more than either of them bargained for.Collaboration with sailorfuckthisshit on tumblr for Borderlands Reverse Bang 2018.





	i can’t lie to you about your chances

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the art that sailorfuckthisshit submitted to the 2018 Borderlands Reverse Bang!

“Just open the vault, he says,” Timothy mutters as he eases the thrusters off, settling the shuttle in a clear patch amidst the rocky ground. “I’ve marked it on your ECHO and everything, he says. It’ll be an adventure, he says.” Tim sighs as the shuttle touches down. “Fuck you, Jack.”

“I’ve got your number,” Jack had said, tossing the ECHO-pad at Timothy. “As long as you’ve got those loans, all we’re doing is negotiating price. And with the size of that debt?” Jack’s grin had been sharp enough to cut glass. “You’re not going to find a better offer.”  
  
Tim sits in the pilot seat, listening to the engine cool, and tries not to feel like he’s been bought and sold.  
  
The urge to fire up the engine again is strong, to point the shuttle at the stars and keep going until he reaches somewhere out of Hyperion’s reach, somewhere they’ve never even heard of Handsome Jack, let alone Timothy Lawrence. If such a place even exists, Tim’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the fuel to get there.  
  
Tim shakes himself, getting up and checking the case tucked behind his seat. The purple glow of eridium fills the small cabin as soon as he lifts the top, the vault key nestled firmly inside. Tim had expected it to be warm, but it radiates no heat, even when he hovers his hand over the top. Tim shuts the case again and stows in in his pack.  
  
Tim’s here now. He might as well see it through.  
  
The atmosphere outside is just thin enough to need an O2 mask, and Tim breathes deep as he picks his way up the rocky trail. It’s right where Jack said it would be, winding up the steep incline. There’s no wind to disturb the dust, the environment apparently too unforgiving for even the most adaptable creatures; the crunch of gravel and his own breathing are the only sounds that break the silence.  
  
Tim trails his fingers over the rocky wall as he rounds the corner, skin catching on the furrows gouged into it and spent shells crunching under his boots. Gunfire was exchanged here, a lot of it; but not recently. A thin layer of dust covers the casings on the ground. Tim’s willing to believe that they’ve lain here undisturbed since Jack came this way, years ago.  
  
The signs of fighting continue the further up Tim goes, but he himself encounters no resistance, which is enough to put him on edge. Sure, he’s only seen the one vault, but that one had been so heavily guarded it had taken the entire team to fight through. Now he’s alone, and - there’s nothing. No freaky eridian guards, no mutated wildlife - just him and the battle-scarred trail, leading up and up and up.

The vault, when he finally reaches it, is a huge arch set at the far end of a smooth, glossy black platform. Tim pauses, to see if anything’s going to try to kill him. Nothing does.

His boots ring out against the glass-like surface as he crosses it, making for the cone-shaped hole in the middle. The vault key is still cool to the touch when he takes it out, although it seems brighter here, like it recognizes that it’s coming home. Tim hesitates for only a moment before setting it in place.

The entire structure rumbles and Tim gets to his feet, backing away and readying his rifle. A shimmering purple curtain of light descends from the archway, and as a shape starts to solidify on the other side Tim braces himself for whatever’s coming through.

 

* * *

  
  
At Tim’s request, upon his return Jack clears the bay and meets the shuttle alone.  
  
“This had better be good,” Jack calls as he bounds up the short ladder. “I put off airlocking Raymonds for this, and - holy shit.” Jacks pulls up short in the door of the shuttle, staring at the other occupant.  
  
Rhys’ eyes light up when he catches sight of Jack, a purple sheen sliding over the back of his pupils so fast Tim’s not sure he would have seen it if he hadn’t been looking.  
  
Rhys looks – _almost_ the same as he did in the promotional vids Timothy remembers from before Atlas’ collapse. He’s dressed a bit more for adventuring than for the boardroom, and his clothes have the dust and stains of travel on them, but otherwise he looks remarkably whole and healthy for a man declared dead over half a decade ago.  
  
“Jack,” Rhys mumbles, in a voice that sounds rusty from disuse. He jerks against the safety harness, then frowns down at it like he’d forgotten it was there. He looks back up at Jack, a trace of frustration entering his voice. “ _Jack_.”  
  
“Yeah, I heard you the first time. What the fuck is this?” Jack says, directing the last part at Tim.  
  
“You asked me to bring back what I found in the vault,” Tim says, getting up and approaching the rear of the shuttle. Tim folds his arms as Jack’s eyes flick back and forth between him and Rhys. “You want to tell me why I found the long-lost Atlas CEO?”  
  
Jack looks back at Rhys like he can’t help himself. Rhys hasn’t looked away from Jack, still single-mindedly pulling against the harness as if he doesn’t know how to undo it. Jack takes a single step into the shuttle, and Rhys makes a whining, frustrated noise.  
  
“I might have, uh,” Jack says, staring in fascination. “I might have left out some of the details.” He takes another step closer. “Has he said anything else?”  
  
“Not really,” Tim says as Jack crouches in front of Rhys, catching one of his wrists. “Ah - careful  
with that.”

“With – _what the_ -,” Jack says as the flesh in his grip _pulses_ and changes. Rhys’ left arm melts in on itself, reshaping into a thick – there’s no other word for it but _tentacle_ , strong and muscular and twining around Jack’s forearm to pull him closer. Jack tries to jerk back but Rhys holds him fast, pulling him up on his knees and cradling Jack’s head in his metal hand.

“Jack,” Rhys purrs, eyes shining as he bends his head close to Jack’s. Before Jack or Timothy can do anything to stop him, Rhys leans in and seals his mouth against Jack’s.

Jack’s _mmmph_ of surprise dwindles as Rhys’s lips move against his, and although his hand strains against Rhys’ thigh at first, as Tim watches it relaxes minutely, holding Rhys in place rather than trying to push away. When Rhys coaxes Jack’s mouth open Jack’s eyes flutter closed, and Tim looks away, clearing his throat.

There’s a wet noise as they break apart, and Jack coughs. “Wow,” he says, his voice a shade deeper. “That time away really taught you some tricks, huh kiddo?” The hand not currently caught in Rhys’...appendage comes up to hold Rhys’ chin, thumb rubbing over the spit-slick lips.

  
“You sure he hasn’t said anything? Anything else,” he says as Rhys murmurs “Jack” again and tries to lean in closer.

Tim leans against the interior wall of the shuttle. “Nothing. He seems pretty fixated on you; it was pretty easy to coax him back to the shuttle what with the - ” Tim gestures at his face and Jack laughs.

“And he was all that was inside? Pity,” Jack murmurs, not waiting for an answer. “Or maybe not,” he amends as Rhys bites gently at his thumb, looking up at him from beneath his lashes. “Oh kiddo, what did that place _do_ to you?”

“Fried his brain, looks like.” Tim drums his fingers against his bicep. “You’re really not going to tell me how he got locked in a vault?”

“It was an accident,” Jack says absently, apparently captivated by the movement of Rhys’ tongue against his thumb. “It was a ‘him or me’ kind of thing, you know? And there’s only one right answer to that question.”

“Right,” Tim says dryly, rubbing at his neck. Jack looks up, frowning, then -

“What’s that?”

Tim forces his hand to drop. “Misunderstanding,” he says, nodding at Rhys and adjusting his shirt collar so it hides the red mark around his throat. “We got past it.”

“Huh.” Jack looks back at Rhys who blinks back at him.

“You gonna ship him back to Atlas? What’s left of Atlas,” Tim corrects himself.

“Are you – are you kidding, this is a _golden_ opportunity.” Jack draws his hand away and stands, ignoring Rhys’ obvious pout. “Who knows _what_ he’s got in his brain now, or his DNA - like hell I’m shipping him anywhere. In fact,” Jack says, looking back at Rhys with a wide, avaricious smile. “I know just where to put you, sweetheart.”

 

* * *

  

The body appears four days later.

“What – what the _fuck_ ,” Jack says, hand covering his nose and mouth. Timothy doesn’t blame him; the stench is pretty intense.

The body is lying in an abandoned hallway, out of the way of normal traffic. Jack and Timothy wouldn’t have even been here except that Jack had an eye toward converting this section of the station to new living quarters and had dragged Tim along because “what else are you even doing, I pay you to do what I say, now shut up and come on.”

Tim pulls his shirt up over his nose and crouches down to look, breathing shallowly. The man’s guts have well and truly exploded; the body’s midsection is burst open from the inside, and nested amongst the viscera is a large ovoid object that Tim is trying very hard not to recognize as an egg. He grabs a stylus from his back pocket and pokes at it; it rings hollowly, an eerie chime like thick glass, though the egg itself is entirely opaque. Tim turns the egg slowly in the remains, until the cracked hole on the other side shows darkly against the dried blood.

“Some sort of parasite,” Tim says, standing as the first security guards arrive. “I guess we know how it got out.”

Jack shakes his head. “This is why we have decontamination,” he spits. “ And now we’ve got some goddamned critter running around my station.” Jack nods the security team forward. “Find out what hellhole this guy spent his vacation in and scan this station from top to bottom. I want this thing found before it chews up more of my workers.”

“Disgusting,” Jack says as the team zips up the body, but his tone is already lighter and some of the good humor has seeped back into the lines of his face. “But kind of hilarious - you think he knew what was happening? Probably not,” Jack laughs, turning and heading back toward his office without checking that Tim is following. Tim falls in step; it’s easier than making a fuss.

“You’re not worried? About this spreading, I mean,” he ask, and Jack shrugs, not missing a step.

“Nah. We’ve had infestations before. Nothing a little direct action can’t handle. And if it comes to it, we’ll evac-and-vent section by section. I’ve yet to meet a parasite than can handle cold vacuum.” Jack chuckles to himself and Tim hums in agreement. That’s probably true.

“Speaking of venting, how’s Rhys doing?” Jack shoots Tim a sidelong glance, but he doesn’t seem to take issue with Tim’s tone. “Has he noticed the other exit yet?”

“You know, he doesn’t seem to notice much of anything,” Jack says as they approach the doors to his office. “Except for me, of course, which I gotta say, is kinda hot. Freaky, sure,” he says as the doors slide open. “But like - freaky-hot.”  
  
Tim’s not sure he agrees, but he can’t deny that Rhys does appear to have eyes only for Jack; as they enter the office Rhys’ head snaps around, skimming over Tim and settling on Jack. He unfolds himself from his cross-legged position on the floor and pads toward them on bare feet, heedless of the bulletproof glass wall caging him off from the rest of the office until he walks face-first into it.

“He does that every time,” Jack chuckles as Rhys rebounds, looking confused. “Never gets old.” He heads over and puts his hand on the glass separating Rhys’ little containment unit. The faux bookcases have been pushed aside; the room behind them had been retrofitted into what Jack jokingly calls “the guest quarters,” but the airlock that dominates one end of the unit remains the same.

“Hey there, Rhysie,” Jack croons as Rhys approaches the glass again. “Did you miss me?”

Rhys doesn’t answer, but he does put his metal hand up on the other side of the glass, mirroring Jack’s. He ducks his head and deliberately runs his tongue over his lips.

The hand not on the glass shakes and splits, becoming a mass of sinuous movement, and Jack laughs and moves away.

“I think he does that when he gets excited. All that time I spent trying to fuck him over,” Jack says as he heads up the stairs to his desk. “And now all he wants is to fuck. With, admittedly, a few extras.” He throws himself into his chair and looks back at Tim. “Is it weird that that’s tempting? Don’t tell me if it is.”

Tim looks down at Rhys, who’s settled on the floor again. The writhing mass at below his elbow slows and settles, reshaping back into a human arm. He leans his head against the glass, gaze trained on Jack, and as Tim watches a faint sheen of purple slides over the back of his pupils.

Tim looks back at Jack. “Knowing you? That is like, the third least-weird thing in this office, easily.” Jack snorts and beckons him over.

“Keep up the flattery and I’ll invite you to join in,” Jack says absently, already pulling up files. “Now about that perimeter sweep…”

 

* * *

 

The second body shows up behind the dumpsters on D-level, found by a couple of unlucky janitors. It’s the same story as the first; midsection burst by a cracked, empty egg. No sign of the egg’s former occupant. By the third and fourth bodies Jack is starting to look pissed all of the time and by the time the fifth body is discovered, guts strewn out in the middle of the Hub of Heroism, Jack looks ready to space the next person who even _thinks_ the word “infestation” so Tim keeps his distance.

Or at least, he tries. His ECHO buzzes with Jack’s personal code one afternoon and after a few moments of hesitation, Tim picks it up.

“Oh good, you’re alive,” Jack says without preamble. “Get down to research lab 2B, you’re gonna want to see this.”

The line clicks dead before Tim can get a reply out. He sighs, and heads for the elevator.

Research lab 2B turns out to be one of the high security ones, which is not actually a problem for Tim - his biometrics match Jack’s so exactly that he breezes right through the checkpoints without incident. One of the obscure perks of being a body double; although Tim has heard that the newer models - so to speak - don’t match as closely.

Jack looks up as Tim joins him next to the containment unit. “Just in time. Security caught a couple of the little buggers down in Disposal.” He gestures toward the glass. “Say hello to our little problem.”

The thing behind the glass is a chittering mess of teeth and tail-like limbs; it’s small, about the size of a baby skag, but as Tim watches it takes a running leap at the glass and Tim can practically feel the _thump_ as it bounces off. Strong, then; stronger than it looks.

“It’s been doing that since they caught it. Single-minded little thing,” Jack murmurs as it bounces off the glass again. _Thump_. “Good luck with that!” Jack calls, leaning forward. “That’s bulletproof, which is more than I can say for your buddy! Asshole.”

Tim decides to save the comment about getting into a shouting match with an alien parasite for another time. “Any word on the origin?”

 _Thump_. “Nah,” Jack says straightening. “Research is being useless, as usual,” he says, raising his voice and grinning at the increased flurry of activity behind him. “But like I said: they’re not bulletproof. And we can get a bioscan off of this one, so that should make finding the rest of them easier.”

 _Thump_. Tim looks back at the creature, picking itself up off the floor. It bares its teeth - one set of teeth, anyway - and runs at the glass again. _Thump_.

“Well.” Tim stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Shouldn’t be long, then.” Jack hums in agreement, eyes bright on the creature as it rights itself and throws its body at the glass.

_Thump._

_Thump._

_Thump._

Tim dreams that night, about small, chittering creatures that skitter just out of sight but melt into the shadows when he turns to look. There’s something behind him, he can feel it, but when he turns it turns with him, always heavy at his back.

 _Timothy_. The voice reverberates in his bones, a thing felt more than heard as something thick and sinuous slides over his shoulder and curls loosely around his neck. _Timothy, you promised._

“I know what I promised.” Tim tries to shove the coil away from his throat but two more curl around his feet, holding him in place. “You’re the one getting distracted.”

 _YOU PROMISED._ Tim’s muscles contract with the force of the reply and the coils around him tighten, dragging him backward into the darkness.

“Alright, alright!” Tim tries to shove the coil away from his throat as more twine around his arms and legs. “Tomorrow, okay?! I’ll - I’ll figure something out.”

 _TOMORROW_. Tim sits bolt upright in bed, drenched in sweat and breathing hard as the word echoes through his head.

 _TOMORROW_.

  
______________________________________

 

Tim’s ECHO chirps bright and early the next morning.

_1800, my office. Don’t bother coming earlier unless you’re going to do the departmental reviews for me. - HJ_

Tim stares at the message, then sends an acknowledgement and rolls back over, arm over his eyes.

1800\. He’s got almost the whole day to - to figure something out. One way or the other.

By 1700 he’s still not sure what he’s going to do, but 1755 finds him in the elevator to Jack’s office, as ordered. He passes the last of the presenters in the hall, looking shaken but alive; they must have done well.

When the doors slide open Jack is ensconced in his chair, engaged in a stare-down with Rhys, who’s sitting cross-legged in the middle of his containment unit. Tim wonders if Rhys has been on display all day, or hidden behind bookcases; he wouldn’t put it past Jack to have left Rhys visible as a trophy and a warning.

“Who’s winning?” Tim calls out as he mounts the steps. Jack blinks and looks around.

“I am, obviously,” he scoffs, swinging his feet down from the desk. “Winning what?”

Tim grins. “Never mind. You rang?”

“I did. C’mere.” Jack gestures and Tim rounds the desk. “I was thinking; this day was gonna be shitty enough, so I was going to do the right thing and reward myself by taking Rhysie over there for a spin. But then it occurred to me -” Jack reaches out and hooks his fingers in Tim’s belt loops, tugging him closer “- I never properly compensated you for a job well done.” Tim sucks in a breath and holds it as Jack’s thumb slips under Tim’s shirt to rub circles over his hipbone.

“What do you say, handsome?” Jack grins “You up for an adventure?”

Tim blows out the breath and glances over his shoulder. Rhys is watching avidly, but his eyes are fixed on Tim now; as Tim watches, the corner of his mouth twitches.

Tim turns back to Jack and settles his hand over Jack’s. “Yeah,” he says, and Jack’s lips turn up. “All right.”

“Atta boy,” Jack murmurs as he stands, eyes hooded. He catches Tim’s wrist and holds it tight as he brushes his lips against Tim’s. The mask is a strange sensation - but not unpleasant, Tim decides as he presses back into it.

“Mmm,” Jack hums as he pulls back smiling. “Always knew I was a good kisser.” He winks and pushes past, towing Tim toward Rhys’ cage.

Rhys unfolds himself and stands as Jack approaches, eyes darkening. Jack opens the door to the containment unit, light flashing around the edge of his hand on the bioscanner. Rhys holds his position as Jack steps inside, Tim trailing behind, although he’s canted forward on the balls of his feet and tension is strung in every line of his body.

“I’ve been teaching him to stay,” Jack says off-handed, letting go of Tim’s wrist as the door slides shut behind them. “Pretty good so far, don’t you think?”

Jack doesn’t wait for an answer, crossing the few paces to where Rhys waits. “Been thinking about that pretty mouth of yours all day, sweetheart.” Rhys hums and molds himself to Jack’s front as Jack cups Rhys’ chin in his hand. “Show me what you got.”

Rhys’ arms snake around Jack’s shoulders as he seals their lips together, and Tim has to admit - they look good together. He circles around, letting his hands settle on Rhys’ hips and his chin come to rest on Rhys’ shoulder, and Jack breaks the kiss to look up.

“Don’t just stand there,” he says impatiently. “Get naked.”

Tim obliges, shrugging his jacket and shirt off and unbuckling his pants. Jack moves to undress Rhys as well, who cooperates after only a moment’s hesitation. Jack only seems interested in undressing enough to get his dick out - typical - but when Rhys curls his right hand around it Jack groans and stiffens under Rhys’ sure grip.

Then Rhys’ flesh ripples, and his arm bursts into a mess of writhing coils, and Jack groans louder.

“Shit, that’s -” he laughs incredulously as one of the snaking arms stretches and fits itself over the head of his flushed dick. “ _Fuck_.” Jack sucks in a breath and slides an arm around Rhys’ waist. “Fuck me, do that again.”

Rhys hums in agreement, glancing back over his shoulder at Tim. One roaming tentacle loops loosely around his neck, and Rhys raises an eyebrow. Tim swallows, and nods.

Rhys’ smile sharpens as he turns back to Jack, and the tentacle slides into Tim’s mouth. It’s - odd, thick and muscled, but not entirely unpleasant. Tim breathes through his nose as it slides over his tongue, not quite able to stop the muffled sounds as it probes the inside of his mouth.

Jack watches in fascination, and a questing tendril at his chin turns him back to look at Rhys. The tip teases Jack’s lips, and Jack laughs and shakes his head.

“I don’t think so, kiddo. I’m not _mmmph_ -”

Whatever Jack was about to say is cut off as the tentacle surges past Jack’s lips and Jack chokes as it hits the back of his throat. Jack’s eyes go wide and furious; he stiffens and pushes at Rhys but Rhys’ metal arm clamps tight around his waist, holding him in place.

“I’ll show you what I’ve got, sweetheart _,_ ” Rhys says, and his voice echoes in Tim’s bones. “Now be a good boy and hold still.”

Jack’s eyes go even wider as Rhys’ tentacle pulses again and small round shapes form in it, traveling down toward Jack’s mouth. The first stretches Jack’s lips even wider, and he shakes his head mutely as Rhys forces it past his throat. Then the next one comes, and the next, and Jack’s throat works furiously to keep up.

The tendril in Timothy’s mouth slips out, and he sucks in a breath as the coil around his neck loosens. Rhys forces one last bulge down Jack’s throat, and then the tentacle in Jack’s mouth retreats as well, curving to cup Jack’s chin as lunges forward and seizes Rhys’ throat.

“What the - what the _fuck_ did you just do to me,” Jack grinds out, voice harsh and scratchy. He coughs, eyes watering, then coughs again, eyes squeezing shut as his fingers tighten around Rhys’ neck.

“Just remember, Jack,” Rhys says, and there’s something overlaid on his voice now, like the distortion of a bad ECHO connection. “You did this to me. I’m just returning the favor”

Jack retches, fingers loosening from Rhys’ neck as he doubles over. Tim steps backward cautiously, but no one’s paying him any attention, Jack too busy dry heaving and Rhys too busy with victory to notice or care. As Tim backs toward the door Jack falls to his knees, one hand going to his throat as he heaves up a viscous stream of small, perfect -

Eggs. Smaller than the ones in the bodies left around the station, but unmistakable nonetheless.

Jack looks down at the eggs in mingled disgust and horror, then looks back up at Rhys.

“How - you’ve been in here the whole time -”

His head whips around as the door to the containment unit slides open behind Tim.

Tim shrugs, stepping backward through the door as Jack’s face contorts with rage.

“Yeah,” Tim says. “About that. Turns out there _was_ a better offer.”

Jack surges up as the door slides shut between them, but Rhys is right behind him, tangling him up in a writhing mass of limbs. Rhys’ eyes glow violet as he snakes coils around Jack’s arms and legs, holding him in place as Jack struggles.

“It was you or me,” Tim says, one hand coming up involuntarily to touch his neck. The red mark is faded now, but Rhys had nearly choked the life out of him in those first few minutes after the vault had opened, convinced that he was Jack, foolishly returned. It had taken everything Timothy had to fend Rhys off long enough to convince Rhys of his mistake, and when he had -

“I had a choice: give you up or die in your place,” Tim says. “You or me. And as you told me, there’s only one right answer to that question.”

Tim’s hand drifts over to the airlock button, and Jack sneers, face turning red around the edges of the mask as the coil around his neck tightens.

“That door only -” Jack chokes. “Only opens for me.”

“Yeah. Thing is,” Tim says. “You’re not the only Jack around here.”

He slams his hand down.

The pad lights up under his hand, outlining his fingers, and even through the bulletproof glass Tim can hear the roar as the airlock opens and the atmosphere vents. Jack has just enough time to lunge for the door before he’s torn off his feet and tossed out into the vacuum, Rhys still wrapped around him from behind in a mass of curling flesh.

It’s over in seconds. The airlock cycles shut, and Tim tries to breathe through the ringing in his ears.

“It was him or me,” Timothy says to himself. Out of the corner of his eye he can see something start to drift into view of the big picture window behind Jack’s desk. It’s very still.

Tim refuses to look.

“Him or me,” he repeats.

 

* * *

 

Tim walks the halls of Helios with a measured, steady pace, and tries to control the bounce in his step. Murder shouldn’t feel this good; then again, Jack had always seemed to get kind of high on it. Maybe he’d been on to something.

He waves to the control crew as he makes his way to a shuttle and they wave back distractedly. He’s just a part of the scenery, to them, which is what he was counting on.

He estimates that he has nearly an hour before the empty office is discovered, maybe another three before an alarm is raised. He intends to be six systems away before that happens.

He slings his pack into the back of the shuttle and drops into the pilot’s seat, forcing himself to go through the pre-flight checks with a measured, steady hand. Wouldn’t do any good to vent himself after everything he’s gone through to get free.

Ground crew cleared, flight codes transmitted; Tim fires up the thrusters and noses the shuttle toward the opening bay doors.

They don’t get more than ten feet open before Tim halts the shuttle, panic balling in his gut.

There’s a - a _figure_ hovering in place beyond the now fully open doors. It’s limned in frost, and it’s a writhing mass of coils from the shoulder and the waist down, but its eyes glow a familiar, damning shade of violet.

Rhys smiles, and his lips don’t move but Timothy can hear the voice in his bones.

 _Hello Timothy_.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at ThirtySixSaveFiles on tumblr!


End file.
